


touching you until i cannot touch you anymore

by hcrlaws



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Character Death, F/M, mention of ramsay & things related to ramsay but not descriptive, soft but angsty, there is mention of other people but not really much, this has been something on my mind for weeks, this is canon fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20676953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcrlaws/pseuds/hcrlaws
Summary: The many touches shared between Sansa and Theon.Until there was no more.





	touching you until i cannot touch you anymore

**Author's Note:**

> This hurt to write, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the whole “I’m not touching you” thing for weeks and theonsa week has finally allowed me to be able to write something about it! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. Kudos and comments welcome!

_ I’m not touching you. _

Her tone was harsh. Her voice and words cut through the air like a sharp dagger pressing and slicing through someone’s throat. Theon trembled in front of her, body shielding and sinking into itself. 

The disgust that was laced into her voice caused Theon to shake and his voice to come out not as confident as it had done before.

_ Please… He’ll punish me. _

Sansa hadn’t cared. And she made sure to let him know that, her teeth curling over her lip. 

_ Do you think I care what he does to you? _

She had walked right past him and out of the door, leaving him to shuffle along behind her with his broken body, hand curled around a lantern. She wondered now if Ramsay had punished Theon for not taking her by the arm, or her not taking him by the arm rather? Or if his punishment had been having to watch Ramsay force himself onto her. 

If she had known what she had came to known then, if she had known that Theon had not killed her brothers, if she knew exactly what Ramsay was doing to him, she wouldn’t have said it. Maybe even if she hated him, was disgusted by him, believed him to have killed her brothers, she would have took his arm to keep him from suffering anymore pain. 

Their touches grew more after that. Sansa had not been able to keep herself from touching him, even if it was by gripping his shoulders and trying to shake the sense back into him. It was still a touch. Still more than she had in months, more than he had in years. 

_ Why should Bran and Rickon be dead while you still breathe? _

Her voice had been harsh, cruel. But she knew just from the look in his eyes, he was not afraid of her. Even when her nails dug into the filthy rags that covered his body, hands gripping his shoulders and her eyes narrowed and glaring right at him, she knew it was the gentlest that someone had been with Theon is a long time. 

That broke her heart a little, causing a tightness around it and a lump to form in her throat. It was that moment that Theon had admitted to never killing her brothers, about how they were just two farmers boys. 

Perhaps Sansa was a little heartless, a little cruel, for the sigh of relief that she let out mentally.    
  


The arrow flew on past her, whipping through the air. Sansa was stunned, staring at the scene that was unfolding before her as Theon wrestled with Myranda and threw her over the rampart without a second thought. He seemed to be shocked by his own action. 

The two of them rushed to look over the side after the deafening crack of Myranda’s skull shook Sansa’s entire body. She looked over to see the girl laid out on the ground below, blood beginning to spill and pool around her head. 

The gates had opened just moments later, the sound of Ramsay and his army arriving back from their battle with Stannis Baratheon. It meant that Ramsay had won against the sour Baratheon and that he would see Myranda. Theon would be punished and so would she for being the reason Theon killed Ramsay’s favourite sex toy. 

_ We have to go. _

She had not even been given a moment to think of it before Theon had her by the wrist and was pulling her to the stairs and further up the castle till they reached the battlement walls, staring down into the snow that covered the ground outside Winterfell’s walls for inches and miles. 

She thought he was mad as he climbed onto the wall and signalled her to follow, but she had done it anyway. At least if she died falling to the ground, it wouldn’t be at the hands of Ramsay Bolton. 

Their eyes had found each other as they stood side by side. There was something in them that had never been in them before. 

Trust.

Their hands found each others without even having to think, Sansa’s clutching his like a lifeline. And then they jumped.    
  


_ Sansa… Sansa…  _

She could hear him speaking her name into her ear, it getting more desperate and loud with every time it left his lips. Her own lips were trembling, slightly blue from the cold winter air. Her dress and cloak was stuck to her skin from the water from the river. She was soaked and freezing. 

So she sank into his touch as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her across his own body in a tight embrace. Though Theon didn’t have much warmth coming off his frail body, it was still appreciated that he was trying. 

The sounds of the dogs and the men's shouting is what broke them from their one comfortable moment. Both of them sat up in a hurry, looking around to see if they needed to make a run for it again or hide. 

_ I’ll lure them away.  _

Theon was willing to sacrifice himself for her. He was willing to put himself back into the hands of Ramsay just to allow her to run off to the wall where Jon was. She shook her head, hand reaching out and grabbing him before he has the chance to move off and do what he said.

_ I won’t make it without you. _

Her voice was steady as it could be in the cold, eyes wide with fear and almost pleading him to stay with her. To take her to the wall and to come with her. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to him now. She knew it. 

He had went off to go to the men, and she could hear them all making comments at them, but unlucky for her, the dogs had managed to sniff her out and find out where she was hid, her legs kicking as she tries to get away from their sharp fangs and barks. 

Brienne and Podrick had shown up and managed to save them from the men and the dogs. Sansa remembered the look her and Theon had shared, wondering if they should trust these complete strangers, but Sansa had met Brienne before. When she was with Little Finger and she had stayed with him instead of going with Brienne. 

If she could go back and change that, she would. But it would mean not saving Theon. 

They had travelled as a group for a few hours before stopping to rest. Sansa and Brienne had spoken, and Podrick was in the process of trying to light a fire when Sansa had approached an anxious Theon, looking out into the trees. 

Her heart had sank into her stomach when he mentioned not coming with them. He wanted to go home, and it stung to know he no longer referred to Winterfell, to her family, as something that connected to home. But Sansa understood. He had a sister, and he needed to go back to her. 

So she had pulled him in for an embrace, making the first move to wrap her arms around him and bury her face into his shoulder. His body was still tense against hers, but he wrapped his arms around her anyway and buried his face into her shoulder, taking the moment. 

It was not a goodbye, but see you again soon.    
  


The next time she had seen Theon, was from across the room. Daenerys Targaryen was stood at her side, throwing questions at him to ask where his sister was and why he was not with her. 

That’s when Theon’s eyes met hers, and Sansa didn’t need to be told why he was not with his sister. His eyes said it all. 

_ I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa. If you’ll have me. _

Sansa pushed down the sob that wanted to escape from her throat, crossing the room in long strides until she met him, arms instantly thrown around him in an embrace just like their last. 

She couldn’t care less about the others in the room, the Dragon Queen or the other Ironborn men that stood behind Theon. What Sansa cared for, was the way that Theon’s whole body relaxed and sank into hers, unlike before when he had stayed tense. His face was buried into her shoulder, one hand in her hair, and they stayed like that.    
  


They hadn’t touched physically while they shared their possible last meal ever together. But their eyes never left one another, staying locked with the others the whole time until their bowls were emptied and the sound of the horn was blown. Sansa felt her heart sinking into her stomach, smile wiped clean off of her face as they both stood almost in rhythm. 

Their hands found one another, wrapping each other in another embrace as everyone else moved in a hurry around them. Theon and Sansa took their time to take in each other, memorising the feeling of having the other in their arms. 

Her head had lifted, eyes meeting again as she leans in to press a gentle kiss against his lips. It ended quickly, but Sansa knew it was the best she had ever had. No manipulation was behind this one like others. This was one shared between two people who cared for one another. 

_ Come back to me.  _

Her voice was soft, almost afraid he hadn’t been able to hear her, but Theon nodded his head anyway, and their hands had lingered and held onto the other, fingertips brushing until they were no longer connected and moving in different directions. 

He was off to fight for Bran, and she was off to sit in the cyrupts and hope when she came back out, he was still there. 

Theon had not been there when she came back out. 

She was almost in denial about it until she found her feet carrying her to the Godswood. It didn’t take her long to find him lying between other men. The scream she had let out was gutrenching, her knees sinking into the snow that was around him, the blood soaking into the dress she had spent days on end making. 

Her hands pressed to his chest, his cheeks, pushed his snow covered hair away from his face. She hated how he almost looked asleep. How he looked more peaceful than he had in years. Possibly ever since she had known him. 

They had moved him to the hall where they had put the rest of the fallen, and she had screamed pushed men away as they tried to get him to strip him of his clothes and clean him. 

_ He doesn’t like to be touched! Leave him alone! Don’t take off his gloves!  _

She ended up being the one to strip and clean him, making him look clean for the funeral. She had brushed his curls and wiped the blood away from his mouth as she closed his eyes for good, and pressed a final kiss to his lips, this one lingering for longer. 

The last time Sansa had touched Theon had been at the funeral, as he lay on the sticks looking so peaceful that it made her sick. He shouldn’t be here, but with her. 

Her hands had ran across his chest numerous times, tears rolling down her cheeks and snot everywhere. She didn’t care who could see. 

She took the direwolf pin from her chest and had placed it underneath his strap on his breastplate, right beside where the kraken was carved in. Her hand had rested over it one final time before she stepped away. 

She had been the one to light sticks, had been there to watch his body burn and Theon disappear. She had been there hours later, crying, and demanded his ashes were sent to Yara along with the other Ironborn men. 

No one argued with her. 

No one argued with her months later when she was Queen and demanded he had a statue in the cyrupts either. She had made sure it was placed beside Robb’s, because that’s where Theon would always be. 

She had thought of Theon when they had crowned her the Queen in the North. She was even sure she saw him stood in the corner, looking over at her with a smile on his lips. She hadn’t seen him smile since she was a girl. 

_ I will have you, Theon Greyjoy. Forever.  _


End file.
